Rent A Gun
by Azrael-013
Summary: The Motor City Machine Guns have advertised their company to anybody with cash to burn, but with the clients they attract they get more than they bargained for. Rated M15 for twisted humor and lots of profanity.
1. Glorified Babysitters

**Rent-A-Gun**

Genre: Humor

Rating: T13

Summary: The Motor City Machine Guns have advertised their company to anybody with cash to burn, but with the clients they attract they get more than they bargained for. Rated T13 for humor and language.

I really should be studying, but when plot bunnies form they quickly multiply. Mine started around the time that I saw the Motor City Machine Guns run their promo advertising, well, themselves, essentially, and it just went on from there. I personally would somehow scrape together a grand just for Chris Sabin, but yeah, if I got them both I would probably just let them sit around and watch Metalocalypse while I cook them dinner. I am such a spaz.

As always, reviews and ideas are much appreciated.

Disclaimer: TNA Wrestling and any other promotions, brands, etc, are property of their respective owners. If there is any fathomable way to own the Guns, please inform me because I am SO there.

Date Uploaded: 26 August 2009

**Chapter 1: ****Glorified Babysitters**

Advertising your services was one thing; advertising the mere awesomeness of your presence was another. But Alex Shelley had supreme confidence in his and his tag team partner's magnetic ability to suck in their fans – enough to shower them in money, in the very least.

"Well, if there's one thing we've learned to count on you boys for, it's ego," Christy Hemme remarked after she and Tara had watched the playback of their commercial along with the Motor City Machine Guns.

"Ego?" Alex echoed, feigning puzzlement. "How is it ego when we're simply stating an undeniable truth? Chris and I are both well-known personalities who are generous enough to share our time and talents with others – for a low, low fee, of course."

"Right," Tara replied cynically, her tarantula, Poison, beginning a slow trek from one of her shoulders to the other. "And who on earth is going to fork out two grand an hour for you guys to 'hang out' with them?"

"Rich suckers," Alex replied immediately.

"What he means is wealthy, intelligent people who like to make the acquaintance of other intelligent, witty people," Chris Sabin quickly corrected his partner.

"Yeah, what he said," Alex agreed, nodding.

Christy and Tara exchanged glances. "Right, good luck on all of this, then," Christy said with a grin, "Because in no way, shape or form is this going to end badly."

"We're going to get paid to goof around with rich suckers," Alex said to her in a mildly impatient tone, ignoring Chris' disgruntled noise at referring to their would-be benefactors as 'rich suckers' again. "Tell me how that's supposed to end badly, huh, Imitation Ginger?"

Christy scowled at him, but it was Tara who spoke. "You know, I'd be more concerned at the fact that TNA actually let you go ahead and put that on their programming. The fact that they seem to care little about you guys peddling personal appearances outside of their umbrella would indicate that you two may be, shall we say, a mite indispensible?"

That caused both of the Guns to glare at her. "Hey, you know what, shut up," Alex retorted.

"Yeah, why don't you and your long-legged, furry freak of nature go off and devour some dung beetles," Chris added, "And take that tarantula with you too."

"You're a tool," Christy snapped at him.

Tara simply gave them an amused grin and ushered her own tag team partner off with her. "Let's go Christy; we'll be back to laugh when this blows up in your face, boys."

"Psh," Chris scoffed when they were out of earshot. "What do those two know? We're going to go great with this little venture of ours."

"Better than great, man," Alex said, having started to check their emails from his iPhone. "We've got at least a dozen interested parties contacting us already! Didn't I tell you this would be awesome?"

"That you did," Chris conceded, looking at the tiny screen over his shoulder. "But hey, this means we're going to need a hell of a lot more ShamWows."

"Yeah, let's go and beat it out of that Vince Offer guy," Alex said, pocketing his iPhone. "Just looking at his face is starting to piss me off nowadays. Plus I tried to use one of those things to blot a grape soda spill on my carpet, and the stain fucking turned orange. Total scam, man."

"I'm with you," Chris agreed, and the two of them headed off, satisfied that by the end of the week they would be seeing big bucks for absolutely minimal work. Best idea ever.

*******

As it turned out the Vince Offer guy was in jail for 'allegedly' beating up a hooker, again, and so the Guns had to settle for ordering another batch of the dodgy ShamWow product, which would arrive in seven days. Alex had been less than pleased with the credit card bill, but as Chris pointed out, you had to spend money to make money. As it was, the rest of their money-making scheme would merely involve them hanging out with wrestling geeks and internet smarks and posing as coolly as they could. Which, being the Motor City Machine Guns, was pretty cool.

And job number one started the very next day. Landing in Dallas, Texas, the two of them headed straight from the airport to a twenty-hectare ranch where their first client had asked to meet them. Alex grinned at Chris as the two of them stepped on the spacious front porch and knocked on the door. "What'd I tell you? A few more of these sweet gigs at rich folk's homes and we are set – for the next few months, in the very least."

"Yeah, until you order another high end sex doll from Japan that puts us back another ten grand," Chris said to him.

"Hey, don't pretend you haven't had a few good times with Ayumi yourself."

"You're a sick fuck," Chris said, ringing the bell again.

The door finally opened and, much to the Guns' surprise, Dixie Carter poked her head out. "Oh good, you're here," she said, looking relieved, crooking a finger to beckon them inside. "Come in, come in, I've been waiting for you for the last ten minutes."

"Uh, Dixie?" Chris asked, looking confused, as he and Alex walked inside her home. "You hired us? This is your place?"

"Yes. This is the family's summer home," Dixie said, leading them down the hall. "Listen, I have to head out in just under five minutes or I'm going to be really late for my meeting, but my number and my husband's numbers are on the fridge, as well as the doctor's and the neighbors' in case of an emergency."

"Wait, emergency?" Alex asked, the two of them still trekking after her. "What exactly are you..." he trailed off when they arrived at the recreation area and came face to face with a boy and a girl of about seven and five respectively, both sitting sullenly on a couch, their arms crossed and scowls on their faces.

"All right, Joseph, Whitney, this is Alex and Chris," Dixie said, going over to crouch in front of her children. "They're going to be looking after you while mommy goes out for a while, okay?"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait..." Alex said, stopping her just as she had scooped up her purse and keys. "Call me crazy here, but I'm starting to get the impression that you hired us to babysit your kids."

"That's right," Dixie replied.

"Far be it for me to question the decisions of the Madam President," Chris said with a displeased frown, "But wouldn't it have been cheaper to hire a junior high student who lives down the block?"

Dixie looked at them, to her kids, and then back to them again. She then leaned in close so that she could speak to them in a low voice. "Okay, here's the deal. I've gone through seventeen nannies and babysitters in the past two months. All of them have refused to set foot in this place again."

"So you hired us," Alex said, cocking an eyebrow, "To babysit?"

"Well in your ad you did say that you were happy to do anything," Dixie said, giving them a sly grin. "Speaking of which, you may want to think about levering boundaries on that clause in the future. Either way, I have you for three hours, and I expect you two make sure that the kids don't tear the place down in the space of that time. I assume that two grown men can do that. In return, I pay you your ridiculously extravagant fee. Deal?"

Alex and Chris looked at each other. "Okay," Alex finally said.

"Great!" Dixie said, already halfway down the hall. "I'll see you guys in three hours then, bye!" And then there was the sound of a door slamming and she was gone.

"Dude, I didn't sign up to be a fucking babysitter," Chris said to his partner.

"Dude, it's two little kids," Alex said, slinging an arm around his shoulders and grinning at him. "How hard can this be?"

*******

A mere hour later the place was in complete chaos. The dinner table had been turned on its side and thrown fruit had splattered everywhere, there were paint handprints marked on every wall downstairs, an upstairs toilet had been clogged and water was overflowing, the back door had been opened and about seven dogs had rushed in and upset furniture as they ran back and forth.

Chris stopped to catch his breath and found Alex lying on an upended couch. "Dude, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm taking a fucking breather, that's what!" Alex said to him. "That crazy kid Joseph stuffed about two dozen TNA action figures in the upstairs toilet and I had to spend half an hour trying to keep water from flooding the entire floor!"

"Well it's starting again," Chris said, shoving a plunger in his hands and making him groan. "Don't give me that shit, man, I just rounded up five dogs with a tray of sausages I found in the freezer, and I still haven't caught up to that rugrat Whitney! Speaking of which, have you seen her?"

"I think she ran past with a can of pink paint and a poodle about five minutes ago," Alex said.

"And you didn't stop her??"

"I was taking a breather!"

Chris looked like he would strangle him when Whitney suddenly ran up to them and slapped a hand onto Alex's forehead, leaving a bright pink handprint. She let out a hysterical squeal and then ran off, a poodle yapping at her heels.

Pissed off, Alex threw a few shredded pillows off of him and got up. "That's it; we underestimated those little shits and they've tried to divide and conquer us. We have to get control back. You with me?"

Chris's response was to snicker.

"Yes, I realize I must look like a jackass with a pink handprint on my forehead, but can we focus on the bigger picture here?"

There was a loud click as Chris snapped a photo of him with his iPhone. "Oh yeah, I see the bigger picture; this blown up to A3 size, hanging in the locker room."

"You're an ass," Alex snarled at him. "Help me get the kids."

"Okay."

*******

When Dixie Carter stepped into her front door a few hours later, the first thing she saw was multi-colored handprints on her cream-colored walls. Furniture was out of place, and she could see that they had been hurriedly straightened up. A few of her vases were gone and so were her picture frames, and, taking a quick look in the garbage bin in the kitchen she could see their smashed up remains. Trekking upstairs, she was a little concerned at the fact that the floor was wet.

Wondering not for the first time whether leaving her admittedly hellraiser kids with the Motor City Machine Guns was a good idea, Dixie went to check on her children. To her surprise, she found them both tucked in and sound asleep in their beds, although Popo the poodle was curled up on top of Whitney's covers.

"Well, well, who knew?" Dixie mused. Closing the door, she went in search of her rather expensive babysitters.

She found them in the recreation area, sitting in front of the TV, asleep on each other's shoulders, while a rerun of Harvey Birdman played in front of them. Dixie had to grin. As things went, it could have been much worse. Taking her checkbook, she wrote out a check for six thousand dollars and then folded and attempted to put it into Alex's jeans pocket.

That of course caused him to stir and wake up. "Hey, you don't have to molest me in my sleep, Dixie, all you have to do is ask," he said with a somewhat bleary grin.

She smacked him on the arm, in effect jerking Chris to consciousness as well. "I was just slipping you your pay," she said. "In fact, I was going to be nice and let you guys sleep it out here on the couch; you two cuddled up next to each other was just too cute to move."

Alex finally realized that he was snuggled up to Chris and shoved him, causing the disgruntled Chris to shove him back. "We'd be happy to spend the night," Alex said, "But that's on the clock too."

"In that case, OUT!!" Dixie roared, pointing to in the direction of the door.

In moments the two of them had been disposed outside the front door. "So much for thanks!" Chris yelled.

"But hey, at least we've got six grand," Alex said, taking the check out and admiring it.

"Yeah, after three hours of hell."

"You know, you really have to start looking at the brighter things in life," Alex said, pocketing the check again. "Take, for example, the fact that I can get Ayumi fixed now – I think she broke last time."

"Give me the fucking check, Alex."

"No."

The two grappled for it down the drive and even into the cab that they hailed, until the exasperated taxi driver kicked them both out and sped off. That sobered them enough to pull their acts together to get another ride to the airport. Besides, Chris figured he would take that check off his partner when Alex was asleep; that would take care of his preorder of the PS3 Slim and PlayTV.

**Continued**


	2. Trapping the Deaner

I'm on puppy carer's leave, as it is, and now he's staring miserably at me from where he's tied up in the garage. I bet he'd love to chew on my laptop right about now. And it's bonus day on my Dissidia game, so I'm off to do some serious leveling up. Anyway, here's chapter two!

Date Uploaded: 28 August 2009

**Chapter 2:**** Trapping the Deaner**

"Dude, it was cool having Dixie Carter grope me in my sleep, but you? Not so cool, man," Alex was saying to Chris over breakfast at McDonalds the next day.

"For the nth fucking time, Alex, I was not 'groping' you," Chris snapped, causing a mother of four at the next table to glare at him. "I was trying to find that check – I'm not letting you spend it on that goddamn sex toy again."

"Chris, I was joking last night," Alex said to him, pausing to chug from his orange juice. "Ayumi's fine, she needs no fixing. I decided that to keep us from mucking around individually with the money that we earn, we play it fair and deposit it into a shared bank account."

"You thought of this," Chris said skeptically. "You, the guy whose last great thought was to throw a dressed manikin out the window of a ten storey building to see the 'community reaction' and defend it later to the police as a 'social experiment'?"

"Hey, if I remember correctly, you were right beside me shoving Raymond out the window."

"What is it with you and naming humanoid objects?" Chris said. "Anyway, fine, I agree to the joint bank account thing. So let's open that now and get that check deposited; somehow knowing it's in your hands makes me all nervous. Where in the hell did you keep it anyway? I turned your room inside out looking for it!"

"Yeah, thanks for turning my stereo upside-down too while you were at it," Alex told him dryly. "Let's just say the check is safe."

"How safe?"

"Like someone would need to do a cavity search to find it."

"Jesus, fuck, Alex, what have I told you about hiding things up there??"

It was then that the mother at the next table gathered her four young ones and, giving the two of them a withering glare, took her children and their Happy Meals out the door.

"Geez, what's her problem?" Alex scoffed. "What does she care if I hide stuff up in the hole of my ceiling light?"

"True; although maybe you could change the term 'cavity' to prevent people from mistaking it for something else."

"Not my fault that people choose to think of something dirty first."

"Anyway, back to the point – you'd think that after you hid your first TNA contract there, where it caught fire from the heat and nearly burned our place down, that you'd learn not to put shit up there," Chris said to him.

"All right, dad," Alex said to him, rolling his eyes. "Let's go and take care of business before we head for the next job; speaking of which, that begins in twenty-four hours, and we still need to catch a plane."

"This better be better than the shit we had to go through yesterday," Chris said, popping the rest of his Egg McMuffin into his mouth.

"Have a little faith, man," Alex implored, unwrapping his second Hash Brown, "Have a little faith."

*******

"I'm losing faith, man; I'm losing faith every minute by the fucking truckload, man," Chris said, his voice slightly panicked.

"Keep calm, dude, keep calm," Alex said in a level tone, putting a hand on his shoulder.

The two of them stood in on a farm in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in front of none other than ODB, who was dressed in a white tank top, a denim short skirt, combat boots and a trucker cap. She took a swig out of her flask, let out a belch and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Hey, you boys are on time. Impressive."

"Okay, I'm a little scared to ask this, but why?" Alex asked.

"Simple, I need muscle," ODB said. "I'd do it myself, but the guy's slippery, so I need more than one person to help me."

"Help you with what?" Chris asked.

"To wrestle my goddamn Knockouts belt from Cody Deaner, that's what," ODB rasped. "Ever since he pinned Velvet Sky in our tag match he still thinks he's got rights to the belt, even though I've been tryin' to drill it into his head that to hold the thing he's got to have tatas."

"Tatas…?" Chris repeated, looking overwhelmed.

"Yeah, son, these!" ODB laughed, patting her very generous knockers. "And if you guys do a good job, I may just let you have a lookie – on top of the payment, of course."

Both Chris and Alex reeled back a bit at that. "Uh, no, we're good," Chris said.

"Suit yourself," ODB said. "Anyway, bastard's hidin' around here somewhere," she said, gesturing around the farm. "Find him, take him out. I only got enough money for an hour and a half, though, so make it count."

She smacked both of them on the butts as they turned, making them both yelp and hurry away, much to her amusement. They could hear her roaring with laughter as they walked off. "This is shit; this is no where a step up from playing babysitter just two days ago," Chris complained.

"Look, we're two accomplished pro-wrestlers, right? And Deaner's just some hick with a mullet not even Billy Ray Cyrus would be caught dead supporting," Alex said. "His backwards brain is no match for our smarts. This is going to be simple."

"You forget one thing," Chris said.

"What's that?"

At that point there was a great racket and the two of them turned to see a tractor come bearing down on them. Both boys gave a yell and managed to jump out of the way in time, even as Cody Deaner, perched on top of the vehicle, hooted and rode off. "We're on his turf, that's what," Chris said, coughing.

They heard footsteps and saw ODB running up to them. "GodDAMNit, I thought I siphoned all the fuckin' gas from that thing! He must've filled it up sometime during the night."

"I thought tractors weren't supposed to go that fast!" Alex said.

"They don't," ODB said grimly, "Only he found a way to soup his up. Anyway, don't you boys worry; I thought this might happen, so I've readied somethin' better." She motioned for them to follow her and ran off in the direction of the barn.

"I hope she's not going to tell us to saddle up," Chris groaned, getting to his feet.

"Listen, Chris, just because one horse decided to throw you off in mid-gallop and then went and sat on you, pinning you to the ground for half an hour, doesn't mean all of them are out to get you," Alex said, brushing himself and heading off after ODB.

As it turned out, there were no horses in the barn. Instead, the Guns came in to find ODB standing beside two well-worn but fully functional ATVs. She grinned at them. "Well, what are you waiting for, boys? Hop on!"

A grin immediately spread on the face of Alex Shelley. "Told you things would pick up," he said to Chris.

Chris, in the meantime, had already jumped onto the closest one. "Yeah, yeah, are you going to stand around there talking or are you coming with me to get this shit done?"

"Hang on, one of you boys need to take me along," ODB said as Alex got onto the other one.

The Guns looked at each other, but before Alex could say a word Chris had gunned the motor of his ATV and sped off. "Hey!" Alex yelled.

He felt someone get on the vehicle behind him and turned to see ODB settle herself there, slinging a coil of rope over one shoulder as she did. "Your partner's got the right idea; let's follow him! Step on it!" she cried, and then clasped Alex firmly around the waist, making him let out a startled, "Oomph!" before starting the ATV and tearing off after Chris.

Already way ahead of them, Chris had done a semi-circle around the farm, just to get a feel for the controls, and immediately spotted Deaner still riding the tractor crazily up and down one side of the area. Wondering briefly what the guy was on, Chris shook his head and then sent his ATV speeding for the tractor.

Deaner spotted him and taunted out, "You think you can catch up to me, pretty boy?? The Deaner's got the maddest tractor skills within the tri-state area! You ain't never goin' to get this away from me!" he yelled, holding up the Knockouts belt as he circled around.

"Geez, must we recycle bad WWE storylines?" Chris muttered to himself.

He heard the sound of another motor and turned to see that Alex and ODB had caught up to them on the other ATV. "You know, I used to think Awesome Kong was the scariest thing to ever hold that belt," Alex commented, "But between her and Deaner she's starting to look pretty bangable."

"Dude, you get half a dozen beers in you and you'll bang anything remotely resembling a person," Chris said back.

"Really?" ODB said, looking amused. "I'll keep that in mind for next time. Right now, let's get that sonofabitch and get my belt back!"

At her cry Chris went left and Alex right. They swooped onto Deaner's tractor on both sides, only to nearly collide into each other when Deaner deftly turned left into bales of hay, sending straws flying everywhere and blocking visibility. Chris narrowly managed to avoid barreling into a wooden fence and resumed chasing the tractor.

Alex cocked his head a little backwards and yelled out to his passenger, "I'm going to get this quad close enough for me to jump onto the tractor and surprise that dickhole! Grab the handles when I do!"

"You got it!" ODB replied.

Alex then turned to Chris and motioned to the tractor. Chris raised an inquiring eyebrow at him. Alex rolled his eyes and performed a more elaborate motion, waving one free hand up and down. Chris gave him a baffled look back and shrugged his shoulders. Alex groaned and gave him the finger, and then waved frantically towards the tractor again.

Chris, annoyed, moved his ATV closer to yell, "I don't understand what the fuck you're trying to tell me, asshole!"

"Were the hundreds of hours of us playing Twisted Metal as kids for nothing??" Alex yelled back at him impatiently. "Be the fucking decoy, nimrod!"

Before Chris could fling back another insult, the two of them had to swerve out of the way as Deaner grinded the tractor to a halt, and then reversed it dangerously back to them. Fortunately enough, however, he chose to chase Chris, who began to lead him off just as Alex had hoped. He then sped towards the tractor and, with ODB reaching around him to grasp the handles, he balanced himself on one side, said a small prayer, put one foot on the seat and then pushed off. Jumping less than gracefully than he would have liked, Alex nonetheless landed onto the back of the tractor and managed to get a firm hold, startling its passenger.

"Shit, how'd you do that??" Deaner exclaimed.

"Well, as far as well-conditioned, foolhardy daredevils go, I'm the best," Alex said with a grin. "Now, to do this!" he said, and then heaved himself up onto the back and lunged for Deaner.

Deaner, in a fit of panic, lashed out with the hand holding the belt, and almost knocked Alex off. He tried again and would have succeeded if he hadn't seen a blur out of the corner of his eye and yanked the wheel of the tractor in order to avoid hitting Chris, who had swung his ATV out front to distract him. This gave Alex the opportunity to jump forward and tackle Deaner. The two of them grappled on top of the still moving vehicle, until they realized that both Chris and ODB had started yelling out warnings in alarmed voices. They turned too late to see that the tractor was headed straight for the side of the barn. Thinking quickly, Alex shoved Deaner off into a nearby pile of hay and jumped in after him. There was a horrendous crash as the tractor collided with the barn, causing a gigantic hole and sending various animals into a screaming cacophony of fright.

Alex groaned and spat out a few straws of hay and turned to see Deaner stirring beside him. Before the redneck could shake the stars out of his head, though, the form of ODB had pounced on him and, within seconds, had trussed him up like a baby calf. "Finally!" ODB said, giving a big sigh of relief as she wiped her brow and put her hands on her hips.

"Hey Alex, you were right," a voice said, and Chris came up to grin down at his partner, "That did turn out pretty fun." As Alex glared at him, he handed ODB the Knockouts title. "I believe this is what you wanted."

"That's mine!" Deaner cried mournfully from his embarrassing position.

"No it ain't!" ODB snapped at him, propping the belt onto her shoulder. "It's rightfully mine and you know it, you thickheaded numbskull! Now you're goin' to stay in that position until it seeps in!"

"I'm all for cruel and unusual punishment," Alex groaned out, even as Chris helped him to his feet, "But if this means this shit is over, then I'm going to have to ask for our fee now."

"Oh all right, hang on, let me go get it," ODB said, clambering back into the barn by means of the fresh hole. In a few minutes she had resurfaced with a laundry bag stuffed with money. "Here you go," she said, handing it to them.

Chris took it hesitantly and said, "I'm probably going to regret asking this, but is this two grand in singles?"

"Yup," ODB said, grinning. "Strippin' pays well, but it's all in change, you know?"

"So you're telling me these dollar bills have been in your crotch?" Chris blurted out, shoving the bag into Alex's hands. Alex gave a noise of disgust and shoved it right back.

"No!" ODB said. "My moonlightin' days are over now that TNA's guaranteed me with a steady paycheck. That there's Deaner's strippin' money."

That caused the tied-up Deaner to give another howl and the Guns to resume playing hot potato with the laundry bag, this time with renewed gusto. Finally it was settled that Chris was going to carry it, until he looked up in alarm as he realized something. "Wait a minute, we can't go through customs carrying a bag full of money – the guards would strip search us the moment we stepped through the airport doors. We're going to have to change this."

"Good luck," ODB said, "The banks closed about a half hour ago."

The boys looked at her in horror. "Shit, what do we do now?" Alex asked.

ODB shrugged. "Not my concern. Find a cheap motel and stay the night or somethin', I dunno."

"Great, just great," Chris grumbled.

"We could find a strip club and reuse some of these," Alex suggested.

"No," Chris retorted firmly, and they walked off bickering, even as ODB admired her Knockouts belt. Presently she headed off to spit shine her precious belonging, leaving Cody Deaner whimpering and still tied up on a pile of hay by his busted tractor.

**Continued**


	3. The Price of Beauty

I've had to up the rating due to the sheer amount of profanity I've used (and intend to use). Very glad to see that there are people enjoying this story – and I hope to cram in a truckload of even more fucked up shit (hah, making full use of the higher rating here) all for your reading pleasure.

Date Uploaded: 30 August 2009

**Chapter 3: ****The Price of Beauty**

After their little adventure with ODB and Cody Deaner, the Guns did need to spend the night in a cheap motel in order to wait for the banks to open the next morning. Of course the last room available in said motel was a tiny, crappy one with fungus growing in the bathroom and a single bed. After a lot of shoving, Chris and Alex agreed to toss a coin for the bed, which Chris ultimately won when he head-butted his buddy in the chest just as Alex threw the coin. Alex spent the night stretched out over two chairs.

In the morning Chris considerately woke his tag team partner up by kicking him off his already uncomfortable position. Within the next three hours they had gone to the bank, deposited the two grand in singles to a baffled teller, and headed to the airport and subsequently directly to their next job.

"You know, when you 'pencil in' these appointments, it would help if we actually had decent rest periods in between," Chris complained to Alex once they had touched down.

"Hey, at least you actually had some semblance of rest," Alex crankily snapped back at him. "I fell off a fucking tractor and then spent the night suspended between two chairs. I ache in places I didn't know I could – even my fucking taint is sore."

"Seeing as you were practically sitting on ODB's lap yesterday afternoon, I'm not surprised."

"Not funny, man, not funny," Alex growled at him, making Chris snicker.

Fortunately their next job took them right back to Tampa, Florida, where they would be able to make the next TNA iMPACT taping right afterwards. A cab ride later and the two of them ended up in front of SB Health and Beauty Spa.

"Dude, what the hell?" Chris said, confused.

"Hey, you wanted relaxation, right?" Alex said, a grin spreading on his face. "Maybe we can get some now, and get paid for it too." He patted Chris on the back and then entered the establishment. After a beat Chris followed him.

The Guns came to the reception area, where Alex took the opportunity to flash charming grins at the girls milling around, only to be stopped in their tracks by a shrill, familiar voice. "There you are! We're been waiting for over fifteen minutes for you two!"

Both Alex and Chris cringed, and then slowly turned around to come face to face with Velvet Sky and Angelina Love, collectively known as the Beautiful People, both of whom were wearing matching bathrobes and had towels wrapped around their heads. Despite the fact that they were, in essence, much easier on the eyes than their previous clients, the Guns gave them even more apprehensive looks than either ODB or Deaner. "You're our next suckers – I mean, clients?" Chris asked.

"If you mean we put in an appointment for your questionable services, then yes," Angelina said, putting her hands on her hips.

"Okay… so what are we doing at a spa?" Chris asked.

"You know what, we're paying good money for you, and we're not about to waste it babbling," Angelina said impatiently, and then motioned for the Guns to follow them. "Come on, we'll walk and talk – we're due for a facial in two minutes." She and Velvet walked off.

The Guns followed willingly enough. "Now listen, we're prepared to pay the full price for you two for as long as we need you for today," Velvet said as they walked. "You see, we have a bit of a problem."

"Shortage of push-up bras and hooker-worthy fishnet tights?" Alex ventured.

"We're not paying for wise-ass comments," Velvet snapped at him. "Now what I was saying was we're regular patrons of this spa. Unfortunately there are SOME PEOPLE," here she glared at a spa employee that they passed by, "Who are unable to do their frickin' jobs like they should, and instead of buckling down and working on their job skills and customer service, have instead refused to serve well-paying customers altogether."

"So in other words you've pissed off the spa staff and now nobody will put up with you," Chris observed.

"What did we say about wise-ass comments??" Angelina said, turning to glare at him.

"They come for free," Chris replied.

"So what are we here for exactly?" Alex asked.

The girls finally entered a room filled with mirrors with two beauty chairs and a table in the middle. Velvet and Angelina took a chair each. "What else?" Angelina said. "We've still paid for time and materials here, so you two are going to take the staff's place. So administer," she said, putting on the eye protectors, leaning back into her chair and motioning to her face.

Chris scowled. "What? No way!"

Alex quickly took him aside to whisper, "Hey, dude, listen, after the hell we went through with our first two jobs, this is going to be cake. What's the worst we have to do, slop some fruit mash on these girls' faces? Give them full body massages? Walk in the park, dude. Sure, we'll have to put up with their bitching and whining and bossing us around, but it's a small price, don't you think?"

"What are you clowns waiting for??" Velvet demanded. "Start on our facials NOW!"

Chris sighed. "Dear God, I hope you're right."

The boys went over to the table and saw that there were clear, glass bowls full of a whitish cream. "Just spread it over our faces – it's not rocket science," Angelina said.

"If so, then why don't you just do it yourselves?" Chris retorted.

Alex had picked up one of the bowls and began to apply it onto Velvet Sky. "Oh sick, this smells kinda awful," he commented. "What the shit is this?"

Chris had begrudgingly started to do the same to Angelina and made a face, wiping some of the stuff on his jeans. "Gross; this kind of smells like the gunk that was that shit that grew from your twelfth grade chemistry project," he said to Alex.

"For your information, it's sterilized nightingale droppings," Velvet said, her face almost completely covered with the stuff.

That made both of the Guns stop, Chris in mid-pour to Angelina Love's upturned face. "You're shitting us," Alex said in disbelief.

"It's a totally exclusive beauty treatment," Velvet defended. "We keep this lathered face mask on for fifty minutes every two weeks, and it gives us our bright, soft, perfect skin."

"You're telling me you pay this place top dollar to scoop bird shit onto your face twice a month?" Chris exclaimed in disgust, even as Alex tried to frantically shake some of the gooey white stuff from his fingers.

"What do you care? You said in your ad you would be happy to do anything," Angelina said, lifting one eye protector to glare at him. "So lather, peon!" and with that she snapped back into her ready position.

"We really need to look at that damn clause again," Chris groaned. Behind him Alex wiped the droppings from his fingers onto the table, nearly upset the bowl holding the foul contents and fell over trying to keep it from falling onto the ground.

*******

As it was, the bird excrement wasn't the only exclusive treatment the Beautiful People took advantage of at the day spa. After the fifty minutes of keeping their unorthodox face masks on (during which they demanded the boys to massage their feet, much to the Guns' chagrin), they moved on to what they had planned next.

Angelina and Velvet led Alex and Chris to a room a floor down that held, surprisingly enough, large vats of ramen noodles. While the girls went to the changing rooms, the guys, probably out of boredom, curiosity and maybe a little bit of hunger, they went over to one of the vats, pulled a few strands of noodles and slurped it down. The girls re-entered just in time to see the two of them start flinging the noodles at each other, wherein they stopped them with shrill screams. Angelina then explained that the vats were essentially edible baths for spa patrons, at the same time that two overweight and disturbingly hairy women entered to use one of the other vats. This caused both Alex and Chris to run into the nearest bathroom to regurgitate whatever of the noodles they had sucked down. It so happened to be a ladies room, however, which caused an even bigger riot than it normally would have.

The girls did go through with their ramen noodle bath, while they sent the boys off to ensure that their towels and bathrobes were properly laundered, so whatever eyeful Alex was hoping to get he was disappointed.

"You know, for a place with a bunch of half-naked girls milling around, we've seen less boobie than we normally do during a WWE divas match," Alex commented, dumping the bathrobe he had carried into a laundry cart.

Chris didn't reply, and Alex turned around to see him still preoccupied with scraping his tongue clean with a free hand. "Dude, seriously, if I could somehow scrape my fucking throat with a Brillo pad, I would," he said. "What do you think those hags are going to make us do next?"

"With any luck, it would be throat scraping or some sort," Alex said with a grimace. "Who knew chicks did all of this weird, disgusting shit to look pretty? They could stick us with giving them colonics next."

"Gross," Chris said, giving him a horrified look. "Listen, not even for two grand an hour am I going to stick an enema up Angelina's asshole. God knows what the fuck else has been up there, anyway."

Alex thought about it. "Good point."

"I've got an idea," Chris sudden said, "Why don't we ditch them right now? I know we lose like an hour and a half of pay, but what's say we cut our losses before we end doing something we're really going to regret?"

Alex sighed and came over to put an arm on his shoulders. "Chris, Chris… if we do that, you do know what the first thing those evil skanks will do, right?"

"Throw a hissy fit because we took their robes and left them stewing naked in a vat of ramen noodles?"

"After that."

"Tell everybody that will listen about how we took their robes and left them stewing naked in a vat of ramen noodles?"

"Correct," Alex said. "That will seriously lower the integrity of our venture here if it gets out that we couldn't even tough it out through an afternoon with two silly blondes. Plus the guys in the back will never let us live it down, and I for one am not looking forward to being ribbed about it in the showers. You catching my drift?"

"I caught your drift two minutes ago," Chris replied sourly. "Fine, we'll go back to the crazy bitches and get this over with. But if I have to touch animal crap again, I'm gone."

When they returned the Beautiful People had just finished their unusual dip and strictly told the Guns to avert their eyes while they got out of the noodle baths. Both Alex and Chris raised their eyebrows and continued to stare shamelessly, much to their fury. It was only when the two large, hairy women from the other bath started to stand and leave that they boys let out cries of terror and quickly covered their eyes, allowing Velvet and Angelina to get out and cover their selves as well.

"Just another instance of Ugly working to protect the Beautiful," Velvet said smugly half an hour later when she and Angelina were seated in another room with two salon chairs, their hair having been washed and shampooed.

Both boys glared at them from where they stood behind the girls' chairs. "All right, so what's next?" Chris demanded.

"Hair time," Angelina said, gesturing to their wet tresses.

"Speaking of which, you seem to have lost a lot in the space of half an hour," Chris said to her.

"I took the hair extensions out, okay?" she told him sharply. "Anyway, take the stuff in those jars and massage in into our scalps. Make sure you really get in there."

More than a little begrudgingly the boys took up the jars, scooped out generous portions of the white mixture inside, and then began to massage it into the girls' wet hair. "I have feeling in the pit of my stomach that we should ask what this is," Chris said to his tag team partner.

"Probably just the remains of the ramen talking," Alex said. "We're probably better off not knowing."

"Come on," Angelina said, looking at Chris through the mirror. "You know, for a pro-wrestler you're exerting the amount of pressure a little girl would give. I said massage, not tickle; put some muscle into it!"

Chris resisted the urge to squeeze her head to see if anything that actually resembled brain matter would trickle out of her ears if he did. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alex stare at the mixture, shrug and then give it an experimental lick. "Dude!" he immediately said. "Did the experience with the noodles teach you nothing?"

"Keep calm, man, it just smells and tastes like some sort of plant, that's all," Alex said nonchalantly.

To his surprise both Velvet and Angelina let out shrills bursts of laughter. "Oh my God, you actually tasted it??" Velvet said hysterically through giggles. "You know there was a reason we didn't immediately tell you guys what that was!"

"Okay, what is it?" Chris asked, tossing his hands up and looking for the nearest sink to wash the substance off.

"It's plant root mixed with bull semen!" Angelina chortled. "Great for the hair, not so cool for putting in your mouth!"

At that Chris ran for the sink, only Alex shoved him out of the way, opened the tap to full power, gargled, spit and then blew chunks into it. He repeated the process as Chris shook his head and the girls continued to laugh, seemingly okay with the fact that animal sperm had been mixed into their hair. "Dude, I told you we should have asked off the bat what that shit was," Chris said.

Alex groaned. "I kind of wish we were back with the bird shit right about now."

"Does this mean I can tell the guys that you've gone and tried a taste of a bull's love essence?" Chris wondered thoughtfully.

Alex's response was to throw up some more, flashing him the finger as he did.

*******

The Beautiful People informed the Guns that it took forty-five minutes under a pedestal hair heater for the treatment to take full effect, and so they were free to have some time to themselves until then. Chris spent the time chatting up the receptionists. Alex moved around, wondering if he really should take a Brilo pad to scrape his throat and tongue.

Forty-five minutes later they met up with the Beautiful People in the same room. "Tell me we're almost done with the crazy beauty treatments," Chris said. "Because seriously – the bird shit, noodle baths and fucking bull sperm – that's not normal."

"Actually, you are done," Velvet said. "We just called you back to give you your pay."

"Yeah; despite the fact that you bitched a lot, you did hold up your end of the deal, and we got a couple of kicks out of it too," Angelina said, winking at Alex.

Alex glared at her. "Shut up. You owe use six grand for three hours of putting up with your batshit insane beauty regiments. Fork it over."

"Yeah, yeah, here," Angelina said, writing out a check with flourish and handing it to him. "Six thousand dollars to the Motor City Machine Guns. You put us back quite a few, but if we get desperate enough again in two weeks we'll give you a call."

"Please do; and when you hear those gunshots on the other end, that's Chris and myself blowing our brains out," Alex said, snatching the check from her.

Velvet rolled her eyes at them, picked up a jar on the table beside her and struggled to open it. "Oh, one last thing before you go, open this for me, would you?"

With a sigh Chris took it and twisted the cap off. "What are those, capsules?"

Velvet nodded as she and Angelina took one each and swallowed them. "Yup, great for skin nutrition," she said.

Chris looked at the product name on the jar. "_Placenta Plus_. Okay, I know I failed biology back in high school like thrice, but isn't the placenta that thing…"

Alex had taken out his iPhone and apparently Googled it. "The placenta – 'the vascular structure in the uterus of most mammals providing oxygen and nutrients for and transferring wastes from the developing fetus…'" He stopped there as the boys let that knowledge sink in for a beat and then turned absolutely appalled looks at the girls.

"What?" Velvet said defensively. "Like I said, it's great for the skin."

"Answer me one thing," Chris said, "Is it human, or animal?"

"I'm not sure, let me check," Angelina said, taking the bottle and beginning to look through the information on it.

"Never mind, we don't want to know!" Alex said quickly and, taking his partner by the arm, pulled him out firmly, all the while lecturing him on the finer points of morbid curiosity killing the cat or causing the ingestion of bull semen, and the bliss of just simply not knowing. Ever.

**Continued**


	4. ShamWhat?

Whew, boy, after regular updates on the first three chapters did I slip up on this one. This is a bit of a filler chapter before the next proper 'job' for the Guns, and it's markedly shorter than the others, but I hope to make up for it the next time. Can't promise a quick update on that one either, but I'll try to get my ass in gear.

Thank you for the reviews, and particularly for the suggestions – Thanks, Gibbly, I've been planning a Beer Money chapter for a while, and now I think I've got it. Keep them coming! In the meantime, let's cut the babbling from the crazy author chick and get to the chapter! Hope you enjoy.

Date Uploaded: 12 January 2010

**Chapter 4: Sham-What?**

Following the very unnatural experience the Motor City Machine Guns had with the Beautiful People at a health spa, they had just under two hours to prepare themselves for an iMPACT taping.

"We need to introduce our new line of MCMG merchandise tonight," Alex told Chris as he pulled on his t-shirt.

"Dude, none of the stuff is ready," Chris replied. "Everything is in really horrible prototype-mode – case in point, the spoon and fork set with our images on the handles."

Alex fished the said product out of his bag and admired it. "I think it would sell, don't you?" he said, holding the two items up.

"Answer me one thing," Chris said, "Why am I the spoon?"

Alex looked at the utensils. "Oh. Well, face it, Chris, between the two of us, everybody thinks you're the spoon."

"What does that even mean?"

Before Alex could reply to that the pyro at the ring area hit and the crowd roared, indicating the start of iMPACT. From there the Guns took part in a backstage segment with Lauren where Alex hijacked a camera and Chris showed off one of their few passable merchandise items, a Motor City Machine Guns tissue box. Dr Stevie went on to interrupt their segment and hire them to take out Abyss in a handicap match later on, which they subsequently lost and were only happy to have the Monster take out his annoying psychiatrist.

"I think the tissue boxes were a hit, dude," Alex said to his partner later on when they were out of the showers.

Chris tentatively touched his jaw and said, "Well if they were, they weren't the only ones to get hit tonight. Parks totally nailed me with that closed fist, man."

Alex made and impatient noise and motioned for Chris to focus on him. "Hey, listen, I don't care if most of the stuff we have are prototypes, our merchandise line is go, man. So, seeing as our next 'job' is in three days, I say we debut the entire range to the public."

"Okay, let's assume I'm buying this," Chris said. "How do you propose we do that?"

"Where else would you peddle dodgy, potentially unreliable and very much untested products?"

Chris thought about it and then grinned. "The Home Shopping Network."

"Right on," Alex said, cocking a finger at him.

*******

"… Hey folks, the name's Vince Offer, the guy who brought you two great products in the ShamWow! and the Slap Chop," Offer "Vince" Shlomi said with a side smile, presumably greeting millions of sleep deprived, very gullible and/or very bored people in TV Land. "And now I'm here today to tell you about a new, amazing product called ¡Buzz-Bang! Originally developed by underpaid, underage coal miners in…"

That was about as far as he got before '1967' by Gearz with Dale Oliver hit and both Alex Shelley and Chris Sabin appeared on either side of Vince, startling him. "What the fu—?"

"Hi, my name is Alex Shelley, and this is Chris Sabin," Alex said, introducing the two of them, "And we're known as the Motor City Machine Guns, the sexiest tag team since Shawn Michaels blasted Marty Jannetty through that glass window."

"We've come here today to showcase our new line of Guns merchandise, every single one of which is ten times the value for money than this new product that this guy is offering," Chris said. "Well, except maybe the spoon and fork set – I would say that's just roughly nine or eight times the value for money."

"What is with you and those utensils?" Alex commented.

"Hey, what do you two clowns think you're doing??" Vince Offer suddenly snapped, causing both of them to look at him. "This is my show, you can't just crash it! Who let you in anyway?? Security!"

"Yeah, I think that's enough out of this guy," Chris said.

"I concur," Alex agreed.

And with that the two of them grabbed Vince by the scruff of his neck and tossed him straight over the table and right out of sight of the camera. There was a crash and a groan, the Guns glanced down briefly and then turned charming smiles back to the camera.

"All right, to start things off, the exclusive Motor City Machine Guns line of drinking cups," Alex said, motioning for someone off screen to bring in the merchandise. A somewhat confused stagehand came up with a box and set up the cups on the counter in front of them. "It currently features five designs – the Guns in dynamic pose, Alex Shelley solo looking sexy, Chris Sabin solo looking cool, the two of us doing an awesome aerial double team move, and finally the two of us sitting down with books and tea with a backdrop of the Eiffel Tower, for the more introspective fans."

"We've been informed that we have less than seven minutes, so we're going to move this along quickly," Chris said, sweeping the cups off and back into the box that the stagehand was holding, causing the poor guy to scramble to catch them all. "Next up are the handy Guns-themed everyday signs," he said, and pulled up a box from behind the counter.

Alex took one and said, "Featuring a 'No Smoking' sign," and he showed a plate with the traditional no smoking sign, but with a picture of the Guns putting out the cigarette of a surprised and very irritable Don West.

"A 'Children Crossing' sign," Chris continued, and he showed a plate with the two of them actually helping kids cross the street, all of the children wearing Guns t-shirts.

"And finally a 'Beware of Dog' sign," Alex said, showing a plate with a picture they had sneakily caught of Velvet Sky three weeks ago the first thing in the morning, looking completely heinous.

"And since we're running really low on time, here's a quick rundown of the rest of our exclusive merchandise," Chris said. With that the two of them started to toss various items out in front of the camera, including but not limited to bed spreads, pencil sharpeners, the ever persistent bobbleheads, sticker books, toilet plungers, watering cans, posters, hastily ghostwritten books, magnets, fishing lines, cookie dough, paper bags, coin purses and hair scrunchies – for men. "Call now and we will take 1.2648% off the regular retail price," Chris finished.

"Tune in next week, when we debut our red light, adults only line," Alex said, winking at the camera as their, or technically Vince Offer's, on air segment came to an end.

*******

"I thought we eighty-sixed the adult line," Chris said to him as the cameras went off air.

"Nah, I resurrected it when you decided to call it a night on our brainstorming session," Alex said, the two of them beginning to walk off the set while staff members finally decided to pick up the groaning Vince Offer off the floor, shoving all of the Guns' hastily showcased merchandise line off him.

"You mean the Monday we played Halo drunk until six in the morning while throwing stupid ideas into the air, wherein I finally conked out after kicking your ass five consecutive times?"

"It was not five times."

"Oh it was. At least."

"I plead brain cell deterioration due to thirteen bottles of beer."

"Excuses. But you were saying?"

"It didn't take much," Alex said, exiting the building into the night air. "For one thing, I just took the kids' bed sheets we already had and added some of those naughty pictures of me and that hot blonde I met in the Caribbean six months ago."

"That is so fucking wrong on so many levels," Chris said to him.

"Aw, come on, don't bitch just because I couldn't find any pictures of you that were sexy enough to add. In the very least you're coming with me tomorrow to Mr Chan's Happy Stuff for Adults to get penis molds."

"Penis—what??" Chris exclaimed.

"It's for our exclusive Motor City Machine Gun Adults dildo range to please the ladies; will you keep up here, man?" Alex told him impatiently.

"Listen, douchebag, my mother is a strict Roman Catholic," Chris snapped at him. "I am NOT making a fucking dildo crafted from the shape of my penis to market to the public! If she found out, and she will, she will bean me over the head with a heavy figurine of Michael the Archangel and then drown me in a basin of holy water!"

Alex snickered. Chris lost his patience and yelled, "It's NOT FUCKING FUNNY, MAN!" causing a pair of lovers on a bench to get startled out of their make out session.

"Fine, fine," Alex soothed, holding up his hands in an effort to calm his tag team partner. After a beat, he asked, "Can I at least put your face on the package of edible underwear?"

Chris snarled something incoherent but no doubt very filthy and tackled him. The trip home was, as usual, filled with intermittent bursts of anger and fistfights, despite Chris being behind the wheel. They would sleep it off and start the same cycle again tomorrow when they headed for their next job.


End file.
